Only one person in a thousand knows the trick of really living in the present.

War, for any cause, is inexcusable. There is nothing which excuses us for the beastly ingenuity of our wars. Only fools, only the diseased, think that we are served by killing the strong young men with machines.

Nothing lasts. Not even a great sorrow.

Language is memory and metaphor.

The hunger of the spirit for eternity - as fierce as a starving man's for bread - is much less a craving to go on living than a craving for redemption. Oh, and a protest against absurdity.

For what I have received may the Lord make me truly thankful. And more truly for what I have not received.

Language is one of the thin walls humanity has built up over centuries against its own bestial and destructive impulses.